There are layers. Patterns, all throughout history; lineages, systems, nations; processes; time. If you were to consider all of humanity one giant organism, where each individual were its systems (as in systems biology...),then you would see that our individual patterns are really microcosmic fragments of a whole. It takes a lot more than a few small intuitives to stop what they can't put their finger any better than those who might if they were paying attention; if they could discern the relationship between microscopic ecologies of mosses and the birthing of stars; but it lives in the atmosphere of their skin, burrowing holes through their hearts;if one finds themselves able to look away from the details, finding perspective in a much bigger picture at work, they'll be a lot less depressed for doing so. (As in any language, there usually are no direct translations; the entire meaning lost in the divide of schismatic cultures of heart and thought) Who knows.
Ni for an individual is that moment you know your dad is dying while watching him have the time of his life, and knowing it happened before the phone rings. It's knowing when someone misses you. It's knowing when they miss someone else. It's seeing the subtleties that poison the mind of a woman you don't know, like Amanita, felt in the air..vaguely backed up by a few indiscernible glances so low their closest friends don't even notice. Your stomach turns but there's nothing you can do about it; you don't know but you can feel it. You can't explain it, there's nothing rational about it. Until you find out why.